


Linger

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode Related, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-15
Updated: 2006-03-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 15:49:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12729561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: What happened after Upgrades.





	Linger

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

P3x789-er.

Uninhabited -- like I still step onto a planet believing that anymore.

Balmy...fucking furnace thanks to the two suns in the sky, and I'm soaked through already. There's a rock sitting just so, on a mound of smaller ones and on my umpteenth walk around this site, I can't resist. The rock goes bouncing on the hard ground; crumbling bit by bit and not a damn thing around me makes a sound.

Dust. Rocks. Heat.

It's too hot to make a sound, anyway. I glance at the figure sprawled on the ground at the centre of the circle of stones.

Daniel.

It seems like he hasn't moved in the past hour at least, and my little impromptu display has been ignored. I could be over the next ridge - where there's water -- ok, a pathetic looking lake, but still water - putting up with Carter's science talk. But oh no, I'm here kicking rocks in a desperate attempt for attention from Daniel who's been glued to this circle of stones since we arrived. He's examined each one in turn. I mean come on, they're great big hunks of rock, with only the fact that they're near the Stargate going for them. But he's gone over them all with a fine-tooth comb. Today he started with the altar at the center of the circle -- another hunk of stone that looks like my BBQ at home. Still waiting to be broken in -- a beaut. I've had dreams about spending a lazy Sunday afternoon out on my deck, a thick T-bone sizzling to perfection on my baby.

BBQ.

Hot.

Heat.

And a beer. An ice cold, finger numbing beer that goes down easy.

Sweet.

"Jack, could you hand me that brush over there?"

A hand, thin long fingers gestures vaguely at another hunk of rock at the base of which his tools are scattered. I grab the only brush I can see, and the hand and brush continue with their work without Daniel even looking at me.

I am so screwed. Not that I need more than the glacier he's been to tell me that, but there's the Danny Brigade -- Carter and Teal'c who oh so subtly told me to stay while they went to collect soil and water samples, and Hammond. George has developed this interesting habit of setting aside worlds like this one for SG1, perfect for pissed archaeologists. It doesn't hurt that he let's me take the credit for requesting them though.

Sometimes.

Even the Doc has a needle with my name on it, just in case I don't get the point to make nice with Daniel - so to speak. But when it comes down to it, Daniel is his own best defense. You wouldn't think it, I know. But Daniel -- holds, touches, and when he's hurt or pissed, he just stops.

Stops. Cold Turkey, nothing.

Cuts himself off, licks his wounds and when he's ready comes back stronger and warier and tougher to crack.

Daniel sits up slightly, and for an instant I think he's actually going to talk to me, but he doesn't. He remains focused on the squiggly lines that runs all over the column supporting the altar. Once in a while he uses the brush to clear away the sand and then scribbles in his notebook.

Squiggly lines.

They're getting more attention than I am. They've been touched more in a day than I have in a long while.

The Patented Daniel -- Defense. Guaranteed to have Airforce Colonels feel like Crap! Coming soon to a store near you!

Yeah right. I'm pathetic. I'm a Colonel who's missing touching his friend. Lover. Whatever.

I keep telling myself no one touches like Daniel does. Not the guy stuff either -- the hug and the clapping on the back. The back-from-the-dead stuff, in public anyway, gets the same guy hugs and the same guy speak. The good stuff -- the touches that hold and comfort and manage to say, `I'm here' all at once are reserved for when we're alone, when we just need to feel we're alive. Oh, yeah he's got me started with it too. After the crap with Nem and leaving him on Apophis's ship, I couldn't keep my hands off him -- like squeezing his shoulder just a little too long or rubbing my hand on the nape of his neck when I know he's tired after bending over the books all day. And somewhere along the line, the touches, the way his hand slips into mine has left the lingering promise of more in its wake. 

I figure it had to be Shau'ri. The people on Abydos touch, hug every chance they get -- it's who they are. The guy that went through with me the first time would never have let himself cry in my arms after Shau'ri died or been the one to start this thing by holding my hand when I said goodbye to my son again on a world light years away from Earth. He was the only one that came through to get me and after all this time I still remember his fingers brushing over the curve of my palm, and then the rest of his hand slipping into mine, the feel of his skin against mine. That's how I got hooked.

Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine wanting to hold hands with him. But I did, and I still do. I mean, long lean fingers -- elegant, definitely not meant for archaeology digs or MP5's. When you turn them over there are calluses there -- from his pen, his tools and new ones from all the weapons he's learnt to carry. I think those are the most painful for him. 

He sighs impatiently as he snaps his notebook shut and continues working with the column. His fingers dig into each crevasse...and jeez!

Get a grip, flyboy!

Daniel looks up startled when I start fumbling with my canteen and then turns right back to the rock. The water isn't cool enough -- nothing would be cool enough right now.

He wipes the back of his palm against his forehead, which adds more dust to his face than anything else. Sweat glistens on his forehead, and before I can think about it too much I offer him the canteen.

"Here..." 

He looks up again, his face a mask, at the canteen and takes it without a word or a touch. He rocks back on his heels, tilting his head up and drinks. Rivulets of sweat decorate his neck, which make me want to lick everyone of them, tasting him. I also glimpse the fading bruise at the junction of his neck and shoulder -- teeth marks. My teeth marks.

I want to push him, argue, pick a fight with him, but from unpleasant experience I know Daniel will push back. Hard. No steps forward and about a hundred back. Frosty the Snowman was warmer than he was when I got back from playing Double O'Neill for the Tollans. Daniel reaches out to people, he's discovered it's not such a bad thing, and then I burn him. When he retreats into himself everyone feels it -- Carter and Teal'c and the rest of the Daniel Brigade. I don't know that he realizes how important he is -- conscience hardly begins to describe it -- heart of the team, yeah. And everyone knows it. So even though they all understood the military mindset when I got back, it didn't stop them from making sure Daniel and I were left alone together in his office, every now and then, or sat next to each other at briefings, or that I was the one on his six whenever we went off world. Our mission logs had Daniel planets for at least two months after that little escapade.

I didn't mind -- I go from a hundred days of him not touching me, to barely three weeks of having him touching me -- a hand on the small of my back or his hand in mine when no-one was looking and pizza nights at my place where we could just be. By the time I got back home, I just wanted to hold him. I don't remember the exact moment that all this started to mean more, but I can't seem to remember a time when it didn't either. Maybe it's just Daniel, it's who he is? All I know is for a mostly straight, well this decade anyway, Colonel, holding hands with a guy is one of the better things the universe had to offer. Especially if said guy is Daniel.

"What is that?" he asks suddenly.

"Huh?" I finally get more than two words out of him, and I say "Huh".

"That song you're humming?" 

I didn't think it was possible but my face burns redder and hotter. I didn't even realize what I was doing.

"Um....the Beatles, ya know ...I wanna hold your hand..." 

I lose him even before the `hand' is completely out of my mouth.

We made it past that eventually, and it was like starting all over again. Daniel doesn't get the military, I hope he never has to. Even though I feel like I have to fight for everything I've devoted my life to with him -- I'm actually glad someone makes me work for it. That Eurondan thing got to us though.

They were the Holy Grail as far as Hammond and I were concerned -- everything the Tollan and the Nox weren't, and they were willing to share with the other kids in exchange for water.

How good was that?

Then Daniel started asking questions, and I told him to shut up. And then I found out he was right. Not because he wasn't military, but because he was Daniel, because asking the tough questions is who he is. The worst part was back home he was normal.

Cold normal.

Yes, Jack.

Sure, Jack.

Agreeable.

Too fucking agreeable until I picked a fight with him, just to hear him argue. I dogged him all day and by the time the afternoon arrived and he was ready for his umpteenth cup of coffee, which I graciously offered to pour for him.

"You said two sugars, Daniel," I supplied in the voice -- the one guaranteed to drive him crazy. He just wrinkled his nose and said `okay' and drank the industrial strength coffee I made especially for this. So of course I blew my top. He sat there and took it -- every goddamned word about the military, about Kinsey and the Go'auld. Then he told me to shut up. Eyes cold, voice flat and me wishing I hadn't thought up this grand plan.

"I'm not the military, Jack. I'm your friend. And I figured I've earned the right for you to listen to what I have to say, once in a while." 

Right then and there, I wished I was Alar. 

Then he apologized for telling me to shut up and thanked me for the coffee. That cost SG1 another month of Daniel planets. The good stuff appeared late one evening after pizza at my place. He was insisting on going, until I grabbed his hand and led him upstairs to the guest bedroom. The best thing about it was that he let me.

We were good, after what felt like forever, we were good again. Then the Tokra version of Doctor Doom arrived with those hand device things and...God! I don't know whether to thank Anise or throttle her. The good doctor forgot to mention that after a few hours of wearing it, it leaves you with a raging hard-on that just won't quit. 

Oh, yeah. Sweet -- NOT!

Not when Daniel's every touch feels like electricity coursing through me, leaving me high and desperate for more. He felt it too, which is why when I got a note on my desk with just a level and storeroom number -- in Daniel's handwriting, I went. 

The room was dark, with that awful fluorescent lighting, but I could see clearly as if we were outside under the sun. 

"Use the chair." There was a chair just to the right of the door and I propped it under the knob. 

"Daniel?"

The next thing I know there's a blur and he's in front of me, my head in his hands and his tongue down my throat. The feel of his body pressed against mine, his tongue in my mouth licking, biting -- I lost it. We ended up on the floor, and neither of us felt the cold, just each other. Daniel was beneath me, his hands under my shirt, skimming over my skin, like trails of fire, not gentle now, but still as strong and left me wanting to climb into his skin and never leave. Getting naked took all of two seconds, but it wasn't enough -- not the full length of a naked Daniel pressed up against me, or the feel of his mouth around my cock, or his nipples in my mouth. He arched beneath me, begging for more, our cocks rubbing together, a sweet rhythm. I abandoned his mouth and zeroed in on his cock, becoming lost in the scent and taste of him. He almost screamed when I licked the hollow of his hip, slow and easy, or rather as slow and easy as I was capable of at the time. I wanted to be careful about leaving marks on him, even though he is a civilian, but I couldn't help myself -- every part of him begged for my touch, for my mouth and tongue and I didn't know where to begin or stop. I settled on the junction of his neck and shoulder, suckling on the skin there, stopping only when I realized I was tasting blood. 

"Jack..." he gasped and all thoughts of stopping disappeared. I wanted nothing more than to be in him so deep I never wanted to leave. 

"Do it."

When he said that I looked at him, and it felt like I was looking at him for the first time since I found the storeroom. 

Need.

Hunger.

Not enough. Never enough. I should have stopped then, but we were both too far gone to care.

"Lube," I whispered and he nodded at his jacket pocket before opening himself up to me. I managed two fingers in him before the sight of him -- hair mussed, eyes wild and biting down on his lower lip to keep from screaming sent me over the edge and I was in him, fitting together like there was no one else, and there never would be. 

Later, when the damned armbands fell off, I remembered everything, the feel of his lips on mine, catching on the lower one, suckling there. I remembered the exquisite heat of him surrounding me, kissing him and catching my name on his lips before he could scream. I remembered the feel of his arms around me as if he never wanted to let go and my fingers digging into his hips, wanting to go deeper because it wasn't... enough. 

Even now on this dustball, in fatigues and sunblock, all I can see and smell is the ruffled hair, bruised lips, the tongue slipping out to moisten the lower one, sweat slicked skin against mine, and the smell of a sated Daniel, and Jack in the room. 

The downside -- the hormone thing went both ways. Carter gets a vague declaration that I care more than I should, which I do, just not the way everyone seems to think now. After, when sanity made a comeback Carter and I tried sorting it out -- quoting regs on why it would never happen again. The whole time I was thinking -- Daniel never has to know.

We were okay after that, kinda shy with each other, which was cute. After he got over blushing every time we were alone together we started slowly -- we both knew there was something there, no need to rush any more than we had. Sex this time seemed to be the perfect beginning to something more.

Of course that lasted until the Zartarc crap happened. The next time I see Anise, Sokar's hell better be freezing over. By the end, Martouf was dead, Carter and I had just made very embarrassing public declarations and Daniel wouldn't even look at me. I ended up cornering him in his office where I tried explaining about hormones and that the Carter thing meant nothing.

"So, logically, the storeroom meant nothing, right?" he said in a scholarly tone. I hate Daniel in professor mode -- it means he won't budge, and changing his mind is like getting Apophis to stay dead.

Oh yeah, logically, it meant nothing, except for the fact I've been wanting to do that for who knows how long. I should have seen that one coming a mile away. 

I tried telling him there was already something between us before the armbands, but he wouldn't listen and reminded me there was already something between Carter and me too. And then very politely asked me to leave. 

After that, it was inevitable -- the rumors started. Carter and me just about did it everywhere on base apparently. She took off for a while to go visit Jacob, and to let things cool down. They did eventually, after all unrequited love between two officers is hardly new fodder for the rumor mill -- every base has a pair. By the time she got back, a new one started making the rounds -- the one that had me stumbling out of a store room a couple of weeks back.

Real original stuff.

Now that was my `spot', where Carter and I met, where I met with just about everybody someone claimed someone else saw. I would have been flattered if Carter wasn't getting dragged down with me, and if Daniel wasn't getting further and further away from me. Daniel wanted me to stand up for myself, despite the fact that I knew this was killing us, I didn't want to -- experience had taught me that stuff like that usually just goes away after a while. Unless some loud-mouthed idiot makes it his business, like Colonel Kelman on SG 7. So I had the whispers, the sniggers...yadda yadda. And it pissed me off. I should have known better, but I decked him one day in the commissary. Anyway we get called into Hammond's office and get the *talk*. Which came down to settling it between us. Like that ever works. I figured some space wouldn't be a bad thing so I asked and received permission for some time off leaving Daniel protected by Carter and Teal'c. 

My third night off base and bored out of my skull I headed over to O'Malley's and the darkest booth I could find. I'd been craving their steaks since the last time we were there. About halfway through the hugest T-bone that left me wondering how the hell I managed to pack away four of these things, Kelman and his cronies walk in and proceed to get plastered. They didn't even see me and I was damned if those assholes were going to cheat me out of my steak. 

Ten minutes later Daniel walks in. With company. Tall, dark and in leather jacket and jeans who can't keep his hands off Daniel - who wasn't doing anything to discourage the guy.

Daniel.

Clad in a pair of black jeans that looked like they were poured on and a light blue sweater that took you straight to his eyes where you wanted to lose yourself. I suppose the fact that the sweater clung to him like a second skin, moving with him easily, helped. Every pair of eyes in that room was on them as they headed to the pool table where after ordering drinks from a girl who tried very hard not to look at the tangle of hands on Daniel's hip, his date proceeded to teach him how to play pool -- the lessons that require hands on teaching and the guy pressed up against him. 

I learned something else about Daniel I never realized -- he works at being unnoticed, at being part of the background at the base. With people he knows and the times he feels he absolutely has to, it's different. It's the everyday living at the base that he has to survive as well, and blending in is better than having to deal with the military jerks, like Kelman, who would just love to get a piece of him. Except now. Now Daniel was attracting attention now like a moth to a flame. And Kelman and his goons were eating it all up. Suddenly, I didn't feel very hungry anymore.

The waitress, on her way back to them with their drinks, got pulled aside by someone who had management written all over him. When she finally did make it back to the pool table, the poor kid got red again and even managed to spill Daniel's Scotch, while trying to deliver the message.But Daniel smiled at her, flashed those baby blues and waited patiently for her to get the message out -- something which calmed the kid down considerably. He simply nodded after she'd finished speaking, and I think he got another recruit to the Daniel Brigade. Sure enough she returned with another Scotch, but not before shooting the management guy in the corner a filthy look on her way back to the pool table.

So school continued -- with a little more restraint, though tall, dark and touchy-feely could not stand any closer to Daniel. He managed to keep his hands on Daniel every chance he got -- showing him how to position the pool cue or squeezing a hip as he moved past to make his shot.

Daniel and his date ignored anything that wasn't a part of their game, and when their drinks were done and the game over, they left. So did Kelman, and telling myself *just in case* I followed him out as well. In the parking lot tall, dark and leathery had Daniel up against his car, his hands underneath the sweater, his mouth locked on Daniel's. Daniel shifted slightly, and the guy moveed in closer, standing between his spread legs, and rubbed up against him. 

"Hey Doc," Kelman shouted out gleefully, and Daniel pulled away, his lips swollen and red. He ignored Kelman and the next thing I know they're gone in a squeal of tires. That was the end of my stand down time.

The next day I found Carter first. She told me about a new batch of crap flying around the base. Apparently Kelman does have a brain and found some interesting stuff in the now infamous storeroom. One of the shelves in the storeroom was bent and according to Kelman, it looked very much like a hand that did the damage. Recently, only SG had the honor of super human strength.

That part I remembered clearly -- Daniel wanting to scream, his hands on me, pressing into my hips, until I gasped as his strength broke through everything else...and he heard me and then he reached out to grab something else, and his fingers found steel, crushing it, while I pounded into him.

The current consensus is Carter and me, since as gorgeous as Daniel is, he's just the Doc and the geek. Hammond didn't want to get involved, because any which way he went, someone is going to get hurt. Carter tactfully let me know she didn't care who it was that did that, just that SG 1 stay together. So we waited all morning for Daniel to surface and I found him in the commissary guzzling coffee, lips swollen and yawning periodically. 

Oh, yeah, Danny boy got some last night.

And Kelman snickering away in the corner knew it. 

"Hey Doc, feeling ok? Kinda walking funny there, aren't ya?"

Where does this asshole get this crap?

"You'll never know, Kelman," Daniel returned cheerfully. The thing about Daniel, is his words are his most effective weapons - they can cut to the bone, and takes no prisoners.

"Why don't you grow a pair and then come and see me?"

"Jealous Kelman? I'm touched." There's nothing like Daniel sarcasm, especially when it's accompanied by an expressive roll of flinty blue eyes daring Kelman on.

"Kelman, you getting any? I'm sure there's an ape somewhere with your name on its ass."

Did I mention that part about sinking down to the level of Neanderthals like Kelman without breaking a sweat?

"That's the beauty of insulting you, Kelman, you don't even know when it's happening."

Daniel shut him up at every turn, and the words Carter and O'Neill weren't even mentioned. He got quite an audience for his little verbal war, and Kelman just got redder and madder. Everyone on base knows no one messes with Daniel without getting a Jaffa, a Colonel, a Major and the commander of this base pissed. This time was different though. All Daniel. By the time Kelman slunk out of the room, Carter was on Daniel's left, Teal'c on his right, and I was opposite him. And we didn't say a word.

Hammond heard about it, but he couldn't do anything -- Daniel wasn't military so no regs were broken no matter what he did in public, and the last thing Kelman would do was go crying to Hammond about the silver tongued linguist that just ripped him a new one. Kelman was the kind that would handle stuff on his own - so Teal'c never strayed far, and when Kelman did try something, he got a Jaffa in his face and a transfer off the base. And Daniel did it without lifting a finger.

Which is why we're on this world getting burnt to a crisp. Hammond assigned us a Daniel planet, while Kelman got the good news. Daniel could care less, he's more interested in those damned lines than anything else and I still want to know who that guy was.

"Oh for crying out loud," I mutter. "All right, I'll bite, who was he?"

"Huh?" Daniel looks at me like with a puzzled statement on his face. But his eyes tell a different story.

"Who was he? The guy that was all over you at O'Malleys?"

"You were there?" he asks sitting down on the ground and looking up at me.

"Yeah-good steak," I mumble.

Daniel stands up and stretches before shuffling over to his pack and water on the other side of the altar. He takes a long swallow before holding it out to me. But I don't take it, and his hand falls back to his side.

"Do you really want to know who he was?" he asks, squinting in the sun.

"Yes," I hiss.

"Why?"

"Why do you think?" I ask exasperated.

"I don't know Jack, that's why I'm asking you," he says sadly.

"Daniel..." God, he really thinks it was all a crock.

So I reach for his hand, taking it in mine, feeling the scratch of the sand against my own skin, as I step closer. I squeeze his palm gently. Finally I think he gets it. 

"You and Sam?"

"Nothing, Daniel." 

He doesn't look convinced.

"Ok, maybe a long time ago, you know alternate realities and regs and all that cliched crap. But...no," I say firmly.

"And what about me, and regs, I mean," he asks.

"I'm willing to risk that," I say. The words spill from me without any hesitation, and without too much thinking -- like there was ever going to be any other answer?

Daniel's soft exhale of breath tell me he thought there was. So I lean forward, swinging my gun out of the way and brush my dry lips against his moist ones softy. He responds and I feel the silk of his tongue against mine before he pulls away.

"So who was he?" I ask as I push that bandana off his head running my fingers through the silken hair, wanting to feel everything about him again.

"Just a friend," he says. "Someone who knew what he was getting into, and could handle a jerk like Kelman, if he had to."

"And do you often kiss your friends like that?" I gesture vaguely at the memory.

"Only the good ones," he teases. "Just wanted Kelman's attention away from you and Sam, that's all. Just a means to an end, Jack. And before you ask anything else, no, nothing happened. I had to do something, I couldn't..."

"Daniel..." It's too hot to get worked up about stuff that doesn't matter.

"What?" he snaps.

"Shut up."

"Make me," he retorts.

So I do.


End file.
